Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The days passed, work at the hospital was mounting, and Ernest found himself struggling to keep on top of everything.

He worked late hours, barely spoke with his fellow medics, and had completely neglected to finish his review of Graham's plans for the Archibald Wing. There was some tension between Lady Florence and Miss Gundry—with neither of them explaining what had happened—and his mother's anger and control and then Lady Samantha's visit. On top of that, Miss Gundry had kept her distance from him ever since he had enquired about advice with Lady Samantha. Ernest felt pulled from all angles and as though he was doing wrong with all those angles.

He groaned, standing up from his desk in his office at the hospital and putting on his coat.

Outside, night had fallen, a black, inky sky framing the white snowy ground. He treaded carefully, fighting fatigue and the needs of his own body. When had he last had a bite to eat? He'd had surgery scheduled to be performed early that morning and had been gone before breakfast, and he did not recall lunch or dinner.

I need to prepare myself properly, he thought, hurrying to his carriage. The thought of returning to Little Harkwell after an exhausting day was both a relieving comfort and dreadful. Lately, it felt as though his mother was waiting around every corner. He could not add her meddling and arguments to his plate as well.

Thumping his head against the carriage window, Ernest watched thoughtlessly out at the late winter night, letting his mind go blank.

Back in the house, he ventured immediately to his study.

I shall just file these papers away and then retire, he told himself, sitting down in his chair at his desk, opening the top drawers to find the order the papers needed to go in. But as soon as he sat down, he felt his body sagging, and he sighed in relief.

His eyes drooped closed, unable to fight the allure of sleep, and before he knew it, he was slumped over his desk, asleep.

Ernest was awoken sometime later—as soon as his eyes flew open, he noticed the clock read just after midnight—and candlelight burned his tired eyes. He groaned, sitting up, looking for the gentle touch of hands on his shoulders.

Miss Gundry stood over his desk, holding a candle that trembled in her grip.

"Lord Bannerdown," she said, her voice hushed but panicked. "I am sorry to wake you but there is a problem."

He drew himself up at once, partially embarrassed at being caught falling asleep at his desk. "What is the matter?"

Why have you been ignoring me?

Her eyes were wide as she fumbled for words. Her hair, plaited down her back, was loosened and wild, as if she had been sleeping as well but woke frantically.

"It is Lady Florence," she whispered, her voice rising. "She has snuck out, Lord Bannerdown."

"What?" he called, but Miss Gundry waved her free hand, panicked. Ernest's heart pounded, and he swore he could taste his own pulse. It was dark outside! What was his cousin thinking? "Has she done anything of this sort before?" He should have known that, but big houses could keep big secrets.

Miss Gundry shook her head. "Never, My Lord."

"Then we must find her at once. I shall call—"

"Please!" she called, an immediate cry to stop him. "Do not alert the staff. For Lady Florence's sake. I know that she will have her reasons, but I do not wish to alarm the others. I only want to bring her home safely, which is why I have come straight to you. I recalled a book that I wanted her to read at breakfast with me, for we have needed to double our tutoring efforts—"

"Miss Gundry," Ernest said pleadingly. "We must make haste."

"Of course," she whispered, her panic making her ramble. The two of them hurried from the study. Miss Gundry lifted her nightgown skirts that were just visible beneath a heavy winter's cloak.

"You must tell me what you know," he demanded as they made for a back exit from the house, thinking of heading to the stables. But he quickly decided against that. Lady Florence was not a fan of horses, and he could not envision her going far enough to need to use one, especially unattended, at night, in the snow. He could only hope she had not gone far on foot. "For I assume this might have something to do with why I have noticed tension between you two."

The candlelight's flame shook in her hands as she nodded. "I … I do not wish to alert the staff because I suspect Lady Florence has snuck out to meet a young man."

That sentence alone was almost enough for Ernest to stop in his tracks. But he pushed on and quietly processed what that could mean.

"Please do not tell me she has ruined herself," he said to Miss Gundry. It was the last thing he needed to deal with: a scandal for a ruined ward. The Ton would never accept her, would shun her, as they had done him and his mother. The difference would be that Lady Florence's prospects would dwindle, and it would be up to Ernest to rectify everything. He thought of Lady Samantha and her risk of being wed to an older gentleman. He could not bear the thought of it happening to his cousin, too, when all her other options had dried up.

"I do not think so," Miss Gundry told him as they broke through the door and entered the snowy blanket outside that covered the field. "I believe she thinks herself in love, a romantic sort, and not thinking of … anything else." He saw her visibly cringe at the implication, and he, too, swallowed, nodding sharply. However, if word got out, the people of the Ton would easily think of anything they pleased, whether it was true or not.

"Lord Bannerdown, I found letters in Lady Florence's room during Lady Samantha's stay. They were exchanged between herself and a gentleman whom she met last year in the assembly rooms in Bath. Ever since, she has been upset with me. I have tried to console her, advise her, but also to warn her of how young men can be." She paused. "I believe this act of rebellion might be her proving to me that I am wrong. Or that she thinks I am wrong. The letters showed her correspondence with a certain young man, and she expressed her love for him. She … She thinks of them as Romeo and Juliet, which is why I believe she has snuck out, just as they both did, defying orders and society's rules."

Ernest drew back, pausing in the bitter cold night. It was dark outside, and he could only hope Miss Gundry's candlelight persisted against the wintery chill. He was glad to see her at least wrapped up in a cloak. But upset pierced through him.

"I am … surprised, Miss Gundry, that you did not come right to me with this knowledge. I have confided in you a lot regarding my own concerns for both Lady Florence and other things. If you had concerns about her well-being or actions, I should have been alerted."

"Lord Bannerdown, I was merely trying to protect the young, grieving girl I am to guide. I wished to counsel her while keeping her confidence. While I disapprove as much as you, I could not run right to you with this knowledge."

"And why not?" he demanded.

Something flickered over her face, something she held back, and he wished to press her, but he watched as she closed up again. It was something she did often, as though she came close to one answer but chose a different one at the last moment possible.

"I—she is grieving, and you are a man. It did not seem right, as part of my counsel was to warn her about men. I did not wish to offend." The words seemed heavy from her mouth, as though it was not as honest as she thought it was.

Ernest hesitated. But he could not answer more, for he saw footprints in the snow and pointed them out.

"Look—there," he told her. "We should follow her tracks."

"Part of me wishes to see Lady Florence home safe, but another part despises that I am taking such a moment from her, even if we are correct in doing so."

"This is my cousin's reputation, Miss Gundry!" Ernest chided, raising his voice, hard with exhaustion, worry, and upset at being lied to. Or perhaps it wasn't lied to, but Miss Gundry had kept pivotal knowledge from him about his own ward. He felt suddenly blindsided.

"I believe in my decision, Lord Bannerdown," Miss Gundry admitted, her voice firm. "I can only apologize that I let it come between us."

"You have kept your distance lately," he murmured. And then he snapped back into action, alarmed to let himself be so distracted. "Come, we must follow this trail. We shall find my cousin before she does something utterly insane."

He paused, meeting Miss Gundry's gaze by the candlelight. "I do hope you counselled her well, Miss Gundry. I do hope you warned her against what will happen to her prospects if she thinks to sully herself."

The governess swallowed and nodded. "I hope I did enough."

Despite his anger at her secrecy, Ernest could not help himself looking out for Claire as they traversed through the snow, tracking the small footprints that showed, at least, Florence was not on horseback. It meant they had a better chance of finding her. He kept glancing between the tracks and Claire. The darkness pressed around them. An owl hooted in the distance, and the snap of twigs in the night put him on edge, wanting to protect her.

Claire was absolute in her silence, even if she did keep stumbling in the snow, and immediately reached out for him as if not aware she was doing it. The snow came down harder, and although Ernest could barely see a foot ahead of him, what he could see worried him.

The tracks they followed were starting to be covered by more snow.

"Where shall we go now?" Claire asked, her voice tight with exasperation. "We're losing the tracks!"

Under his breath, Ernest grumbled, "Perhaps if you had not wasted so much time starting an argument, then we would have been faster. Or perhaps if you had come to me sooner with your concerns, Florence would have never run in the first place."

"Perhaps if you had not been so busy with Lady Samantha, you would have noticed her emotional distress," Claire snapped. Ernest stopped. Her eyes were wide as if she feared her outburst, but her mouth was tight, clinging to that stubborn nature he had come to like.

"We shall go right," he sighed. "She enjoys a particular part of the grounds that leads out by a canal. If we're lucky, she may not have gone that far." They trudged onwards, searching for the sign of more tracks or Florence herself. A noise, a sniffle from the cold, the swish of a cloak. Just anything to know Florence was nearby.

"Miss Gundry, you are her governess," he said tightly. "It is your job to guide her, to tutor her, to alert her guardian of anything amiss. You failed in that duty. You have grown lax, and I beg to ask what has caused this."

"I have grown lax?" she repeated. "Lord Bannerdown, forgive me, but I believe it is you who has. You have been an avoidant guardian, and she has felt that loss. You have worked tirelessly at the hospital, and I understand you have had responsibilities there, but you have them to Lady Florence as well. She has felt abandoned by you, and while you took her to play, and dined with us, you did not always ask her how her day was. You did not always speak with her, and she lacks genuine company. Yes, I am her governess, and I have a duty of care to her, but you are her legal guardian. You agreed to take on that mantle."

Ernest whirled on her. "Do not accuse me, Miss Gundry. I have been trying to put out many fires, so to speak. The romantic worries of a six- and ten-year-old have been the least of my concerns."

"And now?" she demanded. "Now, will you finally see your cousin? She grieves deeply, My Lord, and she seeks any attachment she can. That is why she is being rebellious and sneaking out in such a way. She needs you."

Before Ernest could say anything, the winter wind finally caught up to their candlelight and extinguished it. Darkness sank around them, a heavy blanket that would not be removed. Ernest checked his pockets in a futile effort for matches. Of course he would not have any. But he noticed Claire did the same.

In her cloak pocket, she had some. Steadily, she lit the candle, and Ernest was caught by the way the flame heightened the colour of her eyes, setting them burnished.

Then he blinked, and her anger was back as she pocketed the matches. "I think we ought to go left. Her lover might not know the canal route, but if I am correct, he will know the property boundaries. Left leads right to the far gate, furthest from the house. If she desires secrecy without venturing too far, I think that is where she will go."

"You presume to know my cousin better than me?"

"I know that I spend time with her and listen to her," Claire answered sharply. "I believe I know what would drive a young girl's actions in such a situation."

"And if we are wrong?"

Her answering silence confirmed enough. They could be too late, and he would have a bigger task of presenting Florence to Society than he realized.

But the sound of a horse cut through the night, coming from the left side of the estate, and Ernest's head whipped around to the sound.

"There's a rider." Through the distance, not too far off, a lantern became more visible through the darkness, highlighting the form of a girl in a cloak who stood before the horse.

Florence.

"Make haste!" he called to Claire, and they both tore off in the direction of the lantern and his cousin, who waited for her lover.